Authors: Connie Mason
Belle realized that a man of Casey Walker’s intelligence was going to want answers soon, and she still hadn’t decided on the best way to handle those questions. She’d always found that honesty worked best, but could she trust Casey Walker with the truth?
The man had appeared from nowhere, and she knew nothing about him. For all she knew he could be T.J.’s man, though he didn’t seem the type her father-in-law usually hired. She had seen some of the rough, uncouth drifters who worked for T.J. when he needed special jobs done. No, Casey Walker wasn’t that type. He was almost too handsome, she thought. When he smiled at her she had been strangely stirred by that deep dimple in his cheek and those remarkable hazel eyes. Not green, not brown, but a mesmerizing combination.
“Should Sanchez cut more wood, senora?”
Belle gathered her scattered thoughts and concentrated on Dolores, the Mexican woman who helped her in the kitchen. Neither she nor her husband, Sanchez, were young, but they had needed work and were willing to accept the small salary Belle could afford.
“What did you say, Dolores?”
“Wood, senora. Should Sanchez cut more wood for the cookstove?”
“No, not now. I’m going back to check on Wan Yo and I’d prefer that Sanchez stay with you until I
return. The town is teeming with riffraff looking for work or easy pickings, and it’s not wise for a woman to be alone.” She was thinking of Dinks and how close he had come to raping her. If it hadn’t been for Casey Walker. …
Dolores nodded her understanding. “Si, senora, I will call Sanchez and you can see to Wan Yo. But Wan Yo will need a man’s help with certain chores until he can get around on his own. Sanchez will do that for you. What about the little one? Who will protect him with Wan Yo laid up?”
“I hired a man today to see to Tommy’s safety.”
“Do you think the niño’s grandfather …”
“I don’t know. I told you about Tommy’s grandfather because I wanted you to be aware of the danger once you started working for me. No one else knows, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Si, senora, you can trust me and Sanchez. If not for you we would be living on the streets or dying of starvation. You can depend on us. Go see to Wan Yo and Tommy, we will finish the cooking.”
“I’ll be back before the customers start arriving,” Belle said as she headed out the rear door.
Casey felt out of place. Doctor Lincoln had just left and Wan Yo was sleeping off the sedative he’d been given. Tommy sat by the old man’s bedside, keeping watch, while Casey prowled the tiny parlor. When Belle said she occupied four small rooms behind the restaurant, she hadn’t been lying. He felt like a bull in a china shop. Barely six paces in any direction and he’d be in another room. Wan Yo occupied one bedroom, which meant Tommy probably slept on the cot he’d seen in the tiny kitchen, and the other bedroom belonged to Belle.
Casey stopped pacing when he felt Tommy yanking on his hand. “When is Wan Yo going to wake up, mister?”
“My name is Casey, Tommy.” He hunkered down until he was eye level with Tommy. “You’re fond of Wan Yo, aren’t you?”
“Aunt Naomi sent him with us. He takes real good care of me and Mama.”
Casey led Tommy over to the couch. “Sit down and tell me about Aunt Naomi. Where does she live?”
Casey hated using a child’s innocence to gather information but it was necessary. Long ago he had hardened himself against situations that pulled at his heartstrings. That’s what made him a good detective. Ridding himself of sentimentality and remaining focused allowed him to solve cases others could not.
“Why do you want to know about Aunt Naomi?” Tommy asked, suddenly wary. “Mama said I shouldn’t talk about her.”
“If I’m to protect you and your mother, I should know what kind of danger to watch out for.”
“Aunt Naomi is not dangerous,” Tommy protested. “She gives me presents and writes Mama letters. After Papa died she let us live with her in her big house so that mean old … nevermind, I’m not supposed to say anything about him.”
“Him?”
“Yes, the mean man who wants to take me away from Mama. But Mama and Aunt Naomi said they won’t let him take me. There are lots of girls living in Aunt Naomi’s house. It was fun there.”
“Tommy! What have you been telling Mr. Walker?
How many times have I told you not to discuss family business with strangers?”
“Didn’t you hire Casey to protect us, Mama? I was just telling him about Aunt Naomi and the girls.”
Belle blanched. God, if Casey Walker was T.J.’s man, this was one more black mark against her already besmirched character.
“Go sit by Wan Yo, Tommy, he may wake up and need something.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Tommy said as he trudged back into the bedroom.
“I don’t know what Tommy told you, Mr. Walker…”
“Casey.”
“What?”
“My name is Casey.”
“As I was saying, Mr. Walker, Tommy doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. He’s only a child.”
“He wasn’t saying much, just telling me about his aunt. Do you have any other relatives?”
“I have no relatives, Mr. Walker. Naomi isn’t a blood relative. She’s just a woman who’s been incredibly good to me and Tommy.”
“If this woman cares for you, what are you doing in Placerville by yourself? I’d expect you to settle where you had someone to rely upon after your husband’s death. What about your inlaws? Aren’t they willing to help you?”
Belle stiffened. Dear God, this stranger was baring her secrets one by one without realizing it. “There is no one,” she repeated.
Casey stared into the frightened depths of Belle’s
brown eyes and could almost smell her fear. He was somewhat surprised at the guilt he felt at pressing her for answers, but she still hadn’t told him everything he needed to know.
“What’s the real reason you hired me, Belle?”
Belle was immediately alert. He had called her by her nickname. Where had he heard it? Her eyes narrowed and her lush lips pressed together into a flat line. “Why did you call me Belle just now? I told you my name is Isabelle.”
Casey wanted to laugh. Didn’t she think he had ears? “I heard Wan Yo call you Belle. And that man Dinks. I reckon there are others who call you by that name.”
Belle plopped into the nearest chair and breathed deeply. She was becoming paranoid lately. But she had a gnawing fear that McAllister was closing in on her. If she lost Tommy she’d have nothing … nothing …
“I’m sorry,” Belle said, trying to sound natural despite her racing heart. “I prefer Isabelle, but some call me by my shortened name.” How she wished she could trust this man. She needed someone to confide in, someone to turn to for comfort. Lord, what was she thinking? She hardly knew Casey Walker. And she certainly didn’t need a man. Damn few were worth the trouble.
“Why don’t you take your things to your room, Mr. Walker? You’ll find it off the kitchen. I’m going to stay here awhile with Tommy and Wan Yo. Tell Dolores and Sanchez you’re the man I hired today. Since I usually feed Tommy at the restaurant, your services won’t be needed any more today.”
“You haven’t answered my question, Belle. Don’t
you think I should know the reason Tommy needs protection?”
Belle came out of the chair, her expression guarded. “Soon, but not now. I don’t know yet if I can trust you. Just keep your eyes peeled and your ears open. If you notice anything suspicious report it to me immediately. If anyone tries to hurt Tommy, you’re to protect him.”
“What about you? Don’t you need protection?”
“I can take care of myself. Surely you’ve noticed I’m crippled. Men are put off by women with deformities.”
Casey gave a bark of laughter. “Says who? What about Dinks? Your deformity didn’t seem to bother him.”
She flushed. “He was drunk. You have your orders, Mr. Walker.”
“Casey.”
“Whatever. Just do the job you’re being paid to do and keep your curiosity under control. If I think you need to know anything more, I’ll tell you.”
Casey gave her a crooked grin that deepened the dimple in his cheek and nearly made Belle forget her name. “Sure, boss, whatever you say. I’ll see you later.” He doffed his hat and headed for the door that led into the restaurant. Suddenly he stopped and swung around to face her, “Oh, by the way, what makes you think you don’t need protection at night? Do you depend on your gentlemen callers to provide protection?”
Damn, Casey knew that remark was uncalled for, but somehow it had slipped out before he could call it back.
“Callers?” Belle asked.
“Forget I said that. I’m not being paid to dig into your personal life.”
Hidden fires within her dark eyes flared dangerously. “I’m glad you remembered. I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t think I want to know. But if you have any doubts about taking this job, it’s best you leave now.”
Casey studied Belle’s features, favorably impressed with her determination, her beauty, her protectiveness toward her son. Funny, he hardly noticed her limp now. Nor was he bothered by the fact that she had been a whore at one time. There were too many fascinating facets to Belle Parker to dwell upon something that had no bearing on her appearance or what she was now. She seemed to have accepted her disability with good humor, and he’d soon learn if she still practiced her trade.
Casey had nothing against a reformed whore, but he knew the courts of law would back McAllister in his bid for his grandson. Possession was nine-tenths of the law, and once McAllister got his hands on the boy no court in the land would give him back to a whore, reformed or not. As he left Belle’s rooms, he had the unaccountable urge to run away from this case and everything it represented. He had the distinct feeling that his life would never be the same again as a result of his encounter with Belle Parker McAllister.
Belle watched Casey leave, admiring his broad shoulders and the way his trousers hugged his lean hips. Casey Walker was the first man since Tom’s death she had looked at with anything but mild distaste. Tom’s death had devastated her. He had been husband, lover, protector, and Tommy’s father. Guilt had been her constant companion since the
day she received notice of Tom’s drowning. If he hadn’t insisted on marrying her, there would have been no need for him to take a job that placed him in danger. He’d still be the apple of his father’s eye, and he wouldn’t have had to expose himself to life-threatening situations. It was her fault Tom was dead. McAllister had every right to accuse her of being the cause of his son’s death.
Supper was well in progress when Casey walked into the diner and took an empty seat next to a group of miners. The menu posted on the door boasted of beef stew, dumplings, buttered peas, and apple pie. Casey’s mouth watered just thinking about it. When Dolores set a heaping plate of savory meat and vegetables before him, he dug in with gusto. He had to hand it to Belle, she was a damn good cook. He couldn’t wait to sample the apple pie. The men around him seemed as intent upon their meals as he was. It wasn’t until he was sipping the steaming cup of dark, rich coffee at the end of the satisfying meal that he struck up a conversation with the man sitting next to him.
“I’m new in town, does Belle always serve such good meals?”
“Best damn place in town to eat,” the man vowed. “And reasonable, too. Most of the miners take their meals here.”
“I’m Casey Walker,” Casey said, offering his hand.
“Bram London,” the man said, shaking Casey’s hand. “You a miner? If you’re looking for work maybe I can help you out. I’m foreman at the Gold Bug mine.”
“I might take you up on the offer one of these
days, but not now. I’ve just accepted another position. Besides, I don’t expect to be in town long.”
London did not inquire further. Out here a man’s past was his own private business, and his comings and goings could be speculated upon but never questioned.
“How long have you been taking your meals at the diner?”
“From the first day it opened.”
“Do you know Mrs. Henderson well?”
London shrugged. “As well as most.”
“How well is that?” Casey’s line of questioning had a definite purpose. He hoped to learn whether Belle was still practicing her trade while using the restaurant as a front.
London took exception to Casey’s altogether too personal inquiries. “What are you getting at, Walker? Mrs. Henderson’s personal life is no one’s business, you ought to know that.”
“I sure would like to know her better—a whole lot better,” a leering miner across from Casey alleged. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation and decided to horn in. “Dinks said she was a sweet little piece despite her lame leg.”
“Dinks?” Casey asked sharply, recalling the drunken miner he’d pulled off Belle earlier today.
“Yeah, he’s a friend of mine. Works at the Big Cut. He’s had the little widow plenty of times, the lucky stiff.”
Casey was trying to decide whether to beat the crap out of the ugly miner or shoot him, when Belle happened to walk out of the kitchen. The chatter all but stopped as she traveled between tables, passing around a platter of dumplings. Casey wasn’t at all pleased by the elbow-nudging and whispering
among the customers for he knew exactly what they were thinking. He could read it in their hungry expressions. Each and every one of them wanted to bed Belle, and he included himself in their numbers.
“How do you suppose Mrs. Henderson came up lame, Wentz?” London asked the vulgar man sitting across from him and Casey.
“Who cares.” Wentz gave a lascivious laugh. “She’s like any other woman where it counts. It’s not her legs I’m interested in, but what’s between them.” He licked his thick lips. “Dinks says she’s good, real good.”
London looked skeptical. “I wouldn’t put stock in anything Dinks said. He’s drunk more often than not these days.”
Casey decided he liked Bram London and couldn’t abide Wentz. “I strongly suggest you don’t repeat anything Dinks says, Mr. Wentz.”
Wentz gazed into the depths of Casey’s hazel eyes, and the recognition of something ruthless and dangerous in them passed over his face. He instinctively sidled away from Casey, as if trying to escape some deadly peril.
“I don’t know what business it is of yours, mister,” Wentz challenged, “but if it will make you feel better, everyone knows Dinks is a liar.” He rose abruptly. “I gotta go, can’t sit around jawing all day.”